


The Stanford Prison Experiment

by WaitingForTheDay



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, College, Experimentation, I don't know how to tag all this, M/M, Prison, Prison Guard Lucifer, Prisoner Sam, Psychology, Stanford Prison Experiment, Student Sam Winchester, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2019-11-14 12:52:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18052823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaitingForTheDay/pseuds/WaitingForTheDay
Summary: Sam volunteers for the Stanford Prison experiment. Things quickly get out of hand as the lines between 'experiment' and 'reality' get blurry...You do not need knowledge of the actual experiment. I explain it and a few other things in the first chapter.Authors: Garter & Chris





	1. Questions and Answers

**What and when was the Stanford Prison experiment?**

The Stanford Prison experiment took place in the 1970s. It was a social psychology experiment.

First, willing college kids took a psychological evaluation to ensure that they were mentally healthy. They were told exactly what was going to happen.

**What was going to happen?**

Out of the volunteers, a handful of them would become ‘prison guards’ and the rest became ‘prisoners.’ The basement of the psychology building in Stanford was turned into a replica prison.

Basically, the guards would run the prison. The people who conducted the experiment wanted to see the effect positions of power had on ordinary people.

**What did happen?**

The guards, who were originally perfectly normal people, started to abuse the prisoners. The people in the experiment became committed to their roles. The prisoners, who were originally healthy, became sick and hysteric. It got to the point where many of the prisoners had to be ‘released’. But no one ever said, “I want to quit the experiment.”

**How long did this last?**

The experiment was supposed to go on for two weeks, but it got so bad that it was quit after only six days.

**This doesn’t sound very ethical.**

It wasn’t. Today’s ethical guidelines did not exist in the 70’s. If you tried to replicate this experiment today, you’d get into some serious trouble.

**So what’s this story about?**

This story is an alternate universe where the characters of Supernatural are the subjects of the Stanford Prison experiment; mainly, Sam and Lucifer.

**What happens in this story that didn’t happen in the actual experiment?**

Uh, a lot. If you’re interested in getting just the facts about the Stanford Prion experiment, look it up yourself. There’s tons of information out there. This is a story, and a fanfiction at that, so I took a lot of artistic liberties with this one.

**How often will you update?**

I try to update every couple of days, but there’s no set schedule. The first chapter will be posted today, as soon as I finish it.

**Will there be smut?**

No, but sexual situations may be alluded to.

**I’m not a psychologist, and I know nothing about psychology. Will I still understand what’s happening in the story?**

Yes. I will be sure to clarify anything possibly confusing. I’m not a psychologist either.

**I am a psychologist, and/or I have knowledge in this area. Will I be frustrated by the artistic liberties taken and/or the things you get wrong?**

Possibly. Remember it’s just a story. If I get anything SUPER wrong, though, drop a comment and I’ll fix it.

**Can I get a summary?**

No. I’m bad at those.

**Can you try?**

I guess.

Sam volunteers for an experiment, but things quickly get out of hand. Lucifer is the only reason he’s determined to make it through. Stuff happens.

**That was really bad.**

I know. I promise it’s better than it sounds.


	2. Saturday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First chapter! Here we go.

Sam Winchester shook the hand of the person across from him. “I’m Zimbardo,” the man said. “I’m one of the conductors of the experiment.”

“Sam Winchester,” Sam introduced himself. “Nice to meet you.”

“You passed the original psychological evaluation,” Zimbardo said. “So if you want to participate in the experiment, you can.”

“I’d love to,” Sam said. “Do I get to know what it’s about?”

“Of course,” Zimbardo said. “I assume you know a little about social psychology?”

“Not really,” Sam admitted.

Zimbardo nodded. “That’s fine. Social psychology was born out of World War Two to answer the question, why did Nazis Nazi? Why did we let Nazis Nazi?”

“So it studies the effects of humans on each other,” Sam said.

“Precisely. More specifically, leadership. So in this experiment, a handful of you volunteers will become ‘guards’, and the others ‘prisoners’. The psychology building at Stanford has offered its basement to act as a prison. The experiment will last for two weeks. We want to study the effects of authoritative roles on people, more or less.”

Sam nodded. “I understand.”

“If you agree, and we decide you’ll be a prisoner, you will be ‘arrested’ at your house on Saturday and brought to the ‘prison’. There, you will be treated as an actual prisoner. Should we decide you are a guard, you will spend eight hours on site playing your role, and each night you can go back to campus or your home. You can quit at any time,” Zimbardo said.

“Cool,” Sam said. “Where do I sign?”

Zimbardo passed over the papers. “Here.”

Sam skimmed over the papers and signed his name. “Awesome,” he said. “Is that all?”

“Yes,” said Zimbardo. “Thank you.”

“No, thank _you._ ”

 

 

“You signed up for _what_?” Dean asked, bewildered.

“A social psychology thing,” Sam said. “My psych teacher said if I signed up, he’d give me an A for the semester. I could really use a freebie.”

“So you volunteered to be a guinea pig?”

“Don’t say it like that,” Sam said.

“A lab rat,” Dean amended.

“Even worse,” Sam said. “It’s not a big deal. It’s only two weeks. All I have to do is live in the Stanford psychology building with other volunteers.”

“That’s a big deal,” Dean frowned. “What if something goes wrong?”

“They’re observing our behavior,” Sam said, “not testing eighteenth-century cosmetics on us.”

“Same difference,” Dean shrugged.

“I’ll be fine,” Sam said. “I promise.”

Dean sighed. “It’s not that I don’t trust you to make decisions,” he said, “because I do trust you. I just want you safe. You’ve got such a life ahead of you. You’re gonna be a lawyer. I’d hate to see your chances ruined, Sammy.”

“Sam,” the younger brother corrected. “And I promise, Dean, I will be fine. I can quit at any time. Zimbardo said so.”

Dean wrinkled his nose. “Zimbardo?” he said. “Who the hell is Zimbardo?”

“One of the experiment coordinators,” Sam said.

“It’s a funny name.”

“Hilarious,” Sam deadpanned.

Dean stuck a finger in Sam’s face. “The second things go wrong, you quit, you hear me?”

Sam removed the finger from his face. “Yes, Dean. I promise.”

Dean seemed satisfied by that. “Fine,” he said.

“I might get arrested Saturday,” Sam added.

Dean turned around. “You _huh?_ ”

“It’s part of the experiment,” Sam explained. “It’s a prison thing.”

“But you’re not a criminal.”

“Yes, I know,” Sam said.

“Do they?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yes, Dean.”

“What kind of shit did you get yourself into?” Dean shook his head.

“It’ll be fun,” Sam insisted.

“Have you checked a dictionary lately?” Dean asked. “Cuz I don’t think that word means what you think.”

“Jerk,” Sam said.

Dean smiled. “Bitch.”

 

 

Saturday morning, Sam got up at 5:00 to get dressed, just in case. At 7:14, a police car pulled up in front of his door.

Dean answered it. “Can I help you?” he asked.

The police officer looked at his notepad. “We’re looking for a Samuel Winchester,” the officer said.

Sam got up. “You found him.”

“You’re under arrest,” the officer said, pulling out his handcuffs.

“For what?” Dean asked, astonished.

“For an experiment?” the officer said, uncertain.

“Oh, right.” Dean nodded. “That thing.”

Sam turned around and allowed himself to be handcuffed. “Do I get to ride in the back of the car?” he joked.

The officer nodded. “Yeah,” he said.

“Can I hear my Miranda rights?”

“Don’t push it,” the officer said.

Sam did his best puppy eyes.

The officer sighed. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to a lawyer. If you can’t afford one, one will be provided for you. Good enough?”

“Yes,” Sam said.

“Get in the car.” The officer sounded tired.

Sam complied. “Are we going to the Stanford building?”

“No,” the officer said. “We’re going to _prison_.”

“Right,” Sam smiled.

“Don’t treat it like a game,” the officer said. “It’ll be more authentic.”

“Thanks for the advice,” Sam said. “When’s parole?”

“Two weeks,” the officer said without missing a beat.

Sam nodded. “Sweet.”

 

 

Sam was escorted to the psychology building basement, which really did look like a prison now.

A ‘guard’ ordered him to strip and put on prison garb.

“Yes, sir,” Sam said, doing as he was told.

He was led to a ‘prison cell’ by a blond guard. “Your number is five-four-six-one-oh,” the guard informed him. “We’ll find you a cellmate shortly.”

“Thanks,” Sam said carelessly. He sat on the lower bunk. It was uncomfortable.

The guard turned around sharply and eyes him. “Yes, what?”

Sam had to think for a moment. “Yes, sir?” he finally asked.

“Is that a question?” the guard persisted.

Sam shook his head. “No, sir.”

“It’s actually, ‘Mr. Correctional Officer, sir’,” the guard said.

“What’s your actual name?” Sam asked.

“None of your damn business,” the guard snapped.

Sam grinned. “You really got into character,” he said.

The guard sighed and lowered his voice. “If I tell you, you have to take this seriously,” he said.

“Deal,” Sam said.

“Lucifer Shurley,” the guard said. He held out his hand.

Sam went over and shook it. “Sam Winchester,” he said. “Nice to meet you.”

Lucifer nodded once. Then he went back to playing his role. “As I said, we will find you a cellmate shortly. You are not to attempt escape. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mr. Correctional Officer, sir,” Sam said, grinning.

Lucifer smiled back, satisfied. “Good,” he said, and left.

Sam smiled. This experiment was going to be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Great, now I have to decide who's gonna be the cellmate. Any ideas?


	3. Saturday

Sam quickly got bored, having nothing to do in his little jail cell. He grew tired of watching people pass by the barred window.

Eventually, the door opened. Sam looked up to see a young man being led by Lucifer into the jail cell. “Your number is six-eight-one-one-two,” Lucifer told him.

“Mmkay,” the young man said.

Lucifer nudged him sharply. “Excuse me?” he said.

“Uh, yes, Mr. Correctional Officer, sir,” the young man corrected himself.

“Good,” said Lucifer, and he left.

The young man looked at Sam. “What’re you in for?” he asked dryly.

“Murder,” Sam said, smiling. “You?”

“Armed robbery.” The man held out his hand. “I’m Kevin.”

“Sam,” replied Sam, shaking the offered hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“They’re really taking the experiment seriously,” Kevin noted. “Everyone’s so in character.”

“I guess we should be, too,” Sam said.

Kevin nodded. “I’d imagine,” he said. “I’m really excited to do this. I’m majoring in English right now, but I’ve always had a soft spot for psychology.”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “It’s so cool.”

Kevin hummed his agreement. “I can’t wait to see how they made the prison lunchroom,” he said. “I wonder if we get prison food or actual food.”

“My bet is prison food,” Sam said. “For authenticity.”

“Point taken,” Kevin said. “Wow, being in here makes me feel like a real criminal.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Sam asked.

The two of them talked for a while. Finally, the door opened. A guard beckoned them. “Lunch,” he said.

“Fun,” said Kevin. He went out first, Sam following close behind.

The lunchroom did look like a prison lunchroom. Guards were posted at the two entrances and throughout the room. Sam got in line behind Kevin and grabbed a tray.

The guard behind the glass counter piled up the food on Sam’s plate. It reminded him of the high school cafeteria lunches: edible, but not appealing. He sat down with Kevin and started to eat what may have been mashed potatoes.

“I can’t eat this,” a college-aged boy cried, standing up. “I want real food!”

A guard was at his side immediately. “Sit _down_ ,” he ordered.

“The fuck do you call this shit?” the boy continued. “I want something else. I didn’t sign a waiver to be fed like-”

Lucifer was over him in a second. “What waiver?” he asked sharply. “Don’t tell me you’re delusional already.”

Sam remembered that part of the experiment was, you couldn’t mention that it was an experiment.

“You know damn well what waiver,” the boy yelled.

“What is your number?” Lucifer demanded.

“I refuse to eat this!”

The boy flailed his arms and hit Lucifer, probably unintentionally. Lucifer reacted by punching the kid in the face. “Then go hungry,” he said, “but do _not_ attack me! Do you understand?”

The boy held his nose.

“Do you understand?” Lucifer repeated.

“Yes,” the boy spat out.

“Yes, what?” Lucifer asked.

“Yes, Mr. Correctional Officer, sir.”

Lucifer nodded and walked away.

Sam went over to the boy. “Hey, are you alright?” he asked.

The kid glared at him. “What do you want?”

“I want to see if you’re okay,” Sam said.

“I’m fine.” The boy exhaled. “Prison isn’t as fun as I thought.”

Sam cracked a smile. “I’m Sam,” he said.

“Max,” the boy replied. “Max Miller.”

“What’re you in for?” Sam asked, stealing Kevin’s line.

“Bank robbery, I guess,” Max shrugged. “You?”

“Murder,” Sam said, more confidently.

“Yikes,” Max said. “How long you in for?”

“Two weeks,” Sam grinned. Max smiled.

“We’re supposed to act like real prisoners,” Max said, lowering his voice. “I say, we should seal the deal by having a prison food fight.”

Sam frowned. “I don’t think our correctional officer will like that.”

Max shrugged. “It’s an experiment. What’s he gonna do?”

“Max, I don’t think-”

“FOOD FIGHT,” Max screamed. He launched his goopy mashed potatoes at the nearest inmate.

Food started flying, and people started screaming. The guards were on their feet, blowing their whistles and tackling prisoners. Pretty soon, a full-scale fight broke out. Someone kicked Sam in the back.

Eventually, Lucifer had Max restrained by two guards. They exchanged a few words with Lucifer, then dragged Max kicking and screaming out of the room. Sam stared in disbelief. Maybe Dean was right, he should quit.

“Five-four-six-one-oh,” Lucifer said. Sam turned around. “Please come with me.”

“I actually-” Sam began, but was cut off.

“ _Come with me._ ”

Sam sighed and followed Lucifer to what looked like some kind of interrogation room. “Have a seat,” Lucifer said. Sam sat. “You understand that this behavior is unacceptable in this setting,” he said.

“I didn’t start the fight,” Sam protested.

“That doesn’t matter,” Lucifer said. “Sam, you seem like a nice kid. Certainly you don’t deserve to be in prison. What landed you here?”

Right, Sam was supposed to play a role.

“Murder,” Sam said.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “Interesting. Of who?”

“Uh… my mom,” Sam said. Mary Winchester had actually died in a fire when Sam was a baby, but for creative purposes, today Sam was the killer.

“I see,” Lucifer said. “Do you get a chance for parole?”

“Twelve years,” Sam said. This was kind of fun.

“Well, I assume you want to look good in twelve years,” Lucifer said. “Maybe you can get out earlier for good behavior.”

“Maybe,” Sam agreed.

“Tell you what, Sam,” Lucifer said. “I’ll put in a good word for you if you help me and the other guards run the place right.”

It took Sam a moment to figure out what was being asked of him. “You want me to be a snitch?” he asked.

“I didn’t say that,” Lucifer said. “Just… keep me in the loop.”

Sam shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

Lucifer frowned. “Fine,” he said. “You’re free to go.”

Sam nodded and stood up. A guard outside took him back to his cell.

Kevin was waiting. “Where were you?” he asked.

“With the correctional officer,” Sam said.

Kevin’s eyes widened. “Did he hurt you?”

“No,” Sam said. “Why?”

Kevin shrugged. “I overheard one of the guards talking about punishing people.”

“Oh,” said Sam. “No, I’m fine.” He lay down on the uncomfortable bed, fabricating a life of crime to fully get into character.

Looking back, he should’ve quit then, while he still remembered it was just a game. But for some reason, he did not.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam woke up the next morning and wondered why his bed was so uncomfortable. Then he remembered about the experiment.

It was an experiment, wasn’t it? Sam hadn’t seen Zimbardo since the meeting, and no one had ever come in to check on him or anyone else. But maybe that’s how the experiment was supposed to go. He should’ve read the contract more.

Sam stretched and got out of bed. Where were the showers? He stopped a guard in the hall to ask.

“You get one every other day,” the guard said coldly. “Better get to the mess hall before breakfast is over, unless you fancy scraps for a meal.” He chuckled at the thought.

“Right,” Sam said. He nodded at the guard. “Thanks,” he said, before finding his way back to the cafeteria.

A quick scan around the room told him that Max wasn’t there. Weird. But Sam picked out Kevin’s head in the crowd and quickly got some food and joined him.

“Hi, Sam,” Kevin smiled.

“You didn’t wake me up,” Sam said, pretending to be offended.

Kevin shrugged. “I tried. You swatted my face and told me to fuck off.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

Kevin shrugged again. “No worries.”

Lucifer came over to check up on the inmates. “Good morning,” he said to Sam. Well, he said it to the entire table, but he was looking at Sam.

“Morning, Mr. Correctional Officer, sir,” Sam nodded. “Where’s Max Miller?”

Lucifer’s cold blue eyes snapped to Sam’s hazel ones. “That is none of your concern, Prisoner…” He squinted to read Sam’s shirt. “Five-four-six-one-oh.”

“I was only asking,” Sam said defensively.

“And I’m only telling,” Lucifer responded curtly. “Eat your food.”

Sam sighed and poked the “Mac-n-Cheese” with his plastic fork. “I’m pretty sure the cheese is fake.”

“I don’t really care,” Lucifer said.

“I think the noodles are foam.”

“I said I didn’t care,” Lucifer said. “Are you going to start a riot like Miller did?”

“No, Mr. Correctional Officer, sir,” Sam said. “I’m just informing you of the state of our food.”

“You should’ve thought about the kind of food you’d get before you murdered your mother,” Lucifer said. He walked away.

Sam felt the tables’ eyes on him. “You killed your mom?” one man asked.

“Well,” Sam began. He was going to say _Not for real, only for the experiment,_ but he remembered that he wasn’t supposed to talk about the experiment. Besides, that guard Azazel was right there, ad he really creeped Sam out. “Yeah,” he said finally. “Yeah, I killed my mom.”

“Dude,” another man said. “That’s extreme. What’d you do?”

“Set her on fire.”

“How long are you in here?” yet another man asked.

“Two weeks,” Sam maintained. Because the experiment was two weeks.

“Only two weeks?” the man exclaimed, and Azazel came marching over.

“What’s in two weeks?” Azazel demanded.

The man pointed at Sam. “He’s only here for two weeks.”

Sam couldn’t tell if the man was joking or if he was serious. Didn’t he remember this was just an experiment?

“What’s your name, Prisoner?” Azazel asked Sam.

“Sam Winchester,” Sam responded. “Sir.”

Azazel nodded and left.

“What was all that about?” Kevin wondered. “That guy looks like he’s got a stick up his ass.”

“Tell that to his face,” a prisoner dared.

Kevin shook his head. “I’m stupid, but I’m not suicidal.”

Azazel came back in with a manila folder. “Here’s your file,” he said to Sam. He opened it. “It says you’re in for forty years with a chance of parole in twelve.”

Sam’s mouth went dry. That’s exactly what he had told Lucifer the day before. But… he wasn’t serious. “Can I see that?”

“Be my guest,” Azazel smirked, handing the file over.

Sam ran his hand over the crisp papers. It looked so official. How did they even get some of this information? He handed it back wordlessly.

“Two weeks, my ass,” a prisoner muttered. Sam didn’t even bother to glare at him.

“Finish your food,” Azazel commanded.

Sam didn’t speak again until lunch.

 

 

Lunch came, and the tables were abuzz with talk about how one of the guards had taken a group of prisoners and forced them to act out Mary Shelley’s _Frankenstein_. Apparently there was another riot, too, a real one where guards got jumped. One even got stabbed with a plastic fork. The prisoners, they say, were put into isolation.

Sam began to wonder what kind of experiment this was. Was it even an experiment anymore? He could barely remember signing the papers.

Kevin had gone to sit at the same table he had at breakfast. Sam decided he wasn’t hungry after all, especially after hearing some of the stories the prisoners had to tell about their stay so far. He went back to his cell.

Lucifer met him there. “Hello, Sam,” he said.

“I have a name now?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I can’t call you Sam in front of the others,” Lucifer smiled. “That would be unfair.”

“What do you want?” Sam asked.

“You know what I want, Sam,” Lucifer said. “I want you to tell me what’s going on. After all, if you want your parole to go well…” He left the rest of the sentence unsaid.

“That’s in twelve years,” Sam said.

Lucifer smiled. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean you can’t start now.”

Sam started to shake his head, but he stopped. “I’ll think about it,” he promised.

“Good,” Lucifer nodded. “You won’t regret it, I promise you.” He offered his hand to shake, but Sam shook his head.

“I’ll show myself out,” he said. Lucifer watched him go.

Sam went back to his room, where Kevin was stretched out on the bed. “We’re gonna try and break out,” he said to Sam.

Sam looked surprised. “You… and who?”

“A bunch of us,” Kevin said. “I know it’s an experiment, but it’d be fun.”

 _Experiment._ Sam had almost forgotten this wasn’t real. “Oh,” he said. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“I just don’t. Someone could tell on you.”

“Like who?” Kevin asked.

 _Like me._ Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. Someone,” he said. “You can’t trust everyone in your group.”

“Maybe,” Kevin said. “Hey, one of the guards gave me a deck of cards. Wanna play?”

Sam nodded. “Sure.” He had nothing else to do.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for we_all_fall, because they basically insisted that I post before the summer break. So, here.

“Sir?”

Lucifer looked up, lips pressed into a thin line. He’d been very clear that he didn’t want to be bothered unless there was an emergency of some sort, yet here Azazel was, bothering him. “This better be good,” Lucifer said, crossing his arms to show his distaste.

“Apologies,” Azazel replied, not sounding sincere at all. “A prisoner has requested to see you. Prisoner… uh… five-four-something.”

“Sam?” Lucifer asked.

Azazel shrugged and looked at someone whose figure was obstructed by the wall. “Sam?” he asked the person. Then he looked at Lucifer again. “Yeah, Sam.”

“Send him in and shut the door,” Lucifer nodded. Sam was a good reason to be bothered. Once Azazel had done as asked, Lucifer motioned for the prisoner to take a seat opposite the desk. “Hello.”

“Hi,” Sam said. He looked impatient, like he had something to say. Lucifer waited to see if he would say it. He didn’t.

“Are you here for any reason other than to waste my time?” Lucifer asked sharply.

Sam looked at Lucifer’s eyes, just for a moment, then looked away. “No, sir. I mean, yes. I mean, yeah, I have a reason to be here.”

“Which is…?” Lucifer asked impatiently.

Sam hesitated. “I… I want a lesser sentence,” he said.

Lucifer’s lips twitched in a smile. So he had fallen into the trap, the same trap all the other guards and prisoners had fallen into. They forgot this was all an experiment. Which left Lucifer as the last one standing. The last one, to the best of his knowledge, who remembered that it was all fantasy. Which in turn meant that he ran the game. Not Zimbardo. Not anyone. Lucifer. It was all his game now.

“Sir?” Sam asked.

“Sorry.” Lucifer looked back at the boy. “You remember our terms, yes?”

“Yeah.” The look in Sam’s eyes betrayed guilt. Guilt for what? He must have news.

“Do you have anything to say?” Lucifer asked, as if he didn’t already know, as if the look in Sam’s beautiful eyes didn’t already give it away. _Come on, Sam._

“Yes.” Sam hesitated again, a moral struggle within himself – but what morals mattered here, in jail? Sam seemed to arrive at the same conclusion. “The, some of the prisoners are, um, they’re planning a…” He trailed off.

“Yes?” Lucifer prompted. “Spit it out, boy, I don’t have all day.” Which was a lie, he had the next two weeks. That was how long the experiment was, and that was how long he had. Two weeks.

“They’re planning a revolt,” Sam said quickly, before he could change his mind. And the guilt that took over his face immediately after was priceless.

“A what?” Lucifer asked. No, he heard Sam the first time, but wouldn’t it be fun to make him say it again?

Sure enough, Sam’s cheeks reddened. “A revolt,” he mumbled. “They want… to escape.”

Lucifer hummed and drummed his fingers on the desk. “I see,” he said. “Do you have names?”

“Names?”

“Of the people who are leading this revolt. To kill the Hydra, you must cut off its heads,” Lucifer said.

Sam frowned. “No, you cut off the heads and then burn the stumps. Or else they’ll grow back.”

Lucifer smirked. “Are you implying, Sam, that we _torture_ our inmates?”

Sam’s eyes widened. “No! Not at all! I was just… recounting the myth.”

“Correcting me. You were correcting me.”

“I… yes,” Sam admitted.

Lucifer let his eyes narrow. “I don’t like to be corrected, Sam.”

An indignant _Then don’t get it wrong_ flashed through Sam’s eyes before the boy settled on apologizing. “Sorry, sir.”

Lucifer pursed his lips. “That’s another thing,” he said slowly. “All through this meeting, you’ve called me ‘sir’. Never once did I hear a ‘Mister Correctional Officer, Sir.’”

Sam’s brows furrowed. “Isn’t it all the same?”

Chuckling, Lucifer shook his head. “No. I like the power the long title holds,” he said. “No, you’ll have to give me fifty pushups or a night in isolation.”

“For such a small detail?” Sam looked surprised. Mad, even.

“For such a small detail,” Lucifer confirmed. “Titles are very important. Which will it be, five-four-six-one-oh?”

Sam seemed to think about it. Lucifer knew which he’d choose; stories of isolation were beginning to circulate the Psychology building basement. Sure enough:

“I’ll do the pushups, sir,” Sam sighed. He quickly added, “Mister Correctional Officer, Sir.”

Lucifer nodded. “Do it now,” he said. With another sigh, Sam obeyed.

 

 

“Where’d you disappear off to?” Kevin asked.

“I tried to use the guards’ restroom,” Sam lied.

“Oh. Did it work?”

Sam shook his head. “That creepy guy, Azazel, caught me and made me do fifty pushups.”

Kevin winced. “Sorry, man.”

“It’s fine.” Sam felt bad about lying to his friend. That’s what Kevin was, wasn’t it? Could you even have friends in jail? All Dean ever said about juvie was “Don’t drop the soap” and even that was more than likely a joke. He’d never mentioned friends.

“You thinking about something?” Kevin asked, and Sam realized he’d spaced out.

“No. Not really.” Sam thought he replied too quickly, but to his relief, Kevin didn’t seem to care or even notice. “So, this revolt,” he said, trying to sound casual but not remembering what casual sounded like, “who’s in charge of it? When’s it happening?”

“Why?” Kevin asked. “Do you wanna be part of it?”

Sam shook his head. “Don’t wanna get in trouble,” he said. At least that was honest. “I just need to know where and when to avoid the crowd so I don’t get run over by angry prisoners.”

Kevin laughed, and Sam immediately felt bad. “It’ll be tomorrow, lunch, in the cafeteria,” he said. “Me and these other two guys, Ash something and Eliot Ness.”

“Did you say Mess or Ness?”

“Ness,” Kevin enunciated. “Like, the Loch Ness monster. N as in Noodles.”

“Got it,” Sam said. “That’s cool. So, I guess I’m skipping lunch tomorrow.”

“I guess so.” Kevin laughed. “Don’t worry, I’ll try to save you something.”

“You don’t have to,” Sam said. Now he felt really bad. But that didn’t stop him from returning to Lucifer that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, I'm not abandoning the story! Just taking a summer hiatus so I can be forced outside. I'll be back August-September with more chapters. Love you guys!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK, BITCHES.
> 
> This chapter is short of my 1,000 word minimum goal by 100 words. I am disappointed in myself.

Lucifer looked up as Sam entered. He smiled. “Hello, five-four-six-one-oh. News for me?”

Sam nodded. “Yes, Mister Correctional Officer, sir.”

Lucifer nodded and gestured for Sam to have a seat. “Then do tell.”

“I have names,” Sam said. When Lucifer nodded for him to go on, he cleared his throat and hesitated. “Ash… something. And Eliot Ness. Ness, like the Loch Ness monster.”

“I got it,” Lucifer said. He wrote it down.

“There’s… one more,” Sam said. The guilt was prominent on his face, making Lucifer that much more interested in what he was going to say. “It’s Kevin Tran. My roommate.”

Lucifer leaned back and smiled slowly. Willing to rat out his roommate? He had Sam eating out of the palm of his hand. “Interesting,” Lucifer said. “So I’ll put an end to the rebellion, and I won’t mention you’re the one who told me.”

Sam nodded. “And in return…”

“And in return I’ll see what I can do at your parole hearing.” Lucifer waved a hand for Sam to leave. “Go on.”

Sam nodded. “Thank you, Mister Correctional Officer, sir.” He left.

 

 

The next day, Sam found himself too guilty to even talk to Kevin. He pretended to be asleep up until the time Kevin left for lunch. Then he tailed him from a distance, running into Lucifer himself on the way.

“Where are you going?” Lucifer asked with the ghost of a smile. “Planning on joining the rebellion?”

“No, Mister Correctional Officer, sir,” Sam said quickly. “I just wanted to make sure no one got hurt.”

“None of the guards will be harmed,” Lucifer replied, and Sam frowned.

“But the inmates-”

“What about the inmates?” Lucifer asked sharply.

Sam shrank back. “Nothing, sir.”

Lucifer nodded. “That’s what I thought,” he said. He turned and walked into the cafeteria.

From where Sam was, he could see as Lucifer, Azazel, and the guard Crowley rounded up Eliot, Ash, and Kevin, leading them outside. Sam bit his lip, unsure he had done the right thing. He was sure he hadn’t when Lucifer stopped and looked at Sam, the three perpetrators nearby. “Thank you, Sam,” Lucifer said, and guided the three away. “You three will be spending some time with Crowley.”

Kevin looked back with an expression that morphed from confusion to hurt to anger. Sam averted his eyes, cheeks heating up, and ran all the way back to his cell.

 

 

“My dear Sam.” The voice was not one that Sam wanted to hear any longer. Sam had just drifted off to sleep, too.

“Go away,” Sam said, turning over in his bed.

Lucifer came in anyway. “I really do appreciate the cooperation, Sam. You helped stop a revolt.”

“You said you wouldn’t tell them I was the snitch,” Sam replied. “You broke your end of the deal.”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t tell them, though. I merely implied it.”

“That still counts.”

“Then you should have specified that before you agreed to our terms,” the correctional officer replied. He smiled. Sam was tired of that smile. He wanted to wipe it off Lucifer’s face. He wanted to-

“Why are you staring at me?” Lucifer demanded, sounding more amused than anything.

Sam smiled sweetly. “How long would I be here if I killed you?”

Lucifer smirked. “Long,” he said. “Didn’t you learn killing is bad when you killed your mommy?”

Sam frowned. “I didn’t kill my-”

“Yes, you did,” Lucifer interrupted. “Why else would you be in jail?”

“Because…” Sam began, but he couldn’t think of a reason. He did remember telling that guy… that Max guy, that he’d killed his mother. But that wasn’t true. Was it?

What was true anymore?

“You set the fire, Sam,” Lucifer said slowly. Deliberately.

 _I never told him she died in a fire,_ Sam thought. _So he must be right. There’s no other explanation._ “Oh my God,” Sam whispered. “I killed Mom.”

Lucifer sat own beside Sam and stroked his hair. “It’s okay,” he said. “You’re serving your time for it.”

“I deserve to rot in here.”

“No,” Lucifer said. “You don’t. Don’t say that.”

“Dean must hate me,” Sam said.

“He doesn’t,” Lucifer said.

Sam leaned against Lucifer and started to cry. “The worst part is, I don’t even remember doing it. Killing her. I don’t remember,” he confessed.

Lucifer made a sound of surprise. “You don’t?”

“No,” Sam said, and the tears really came. “I’m such a horrible person.”

“You can redeem yourself,” Lucifer said, “by helping me run the prison. Help me make sure no one escapes. Stuff like that.”

“I can?” Sam asked hopefully. His eyes shone like a child’s.

“Yes,” Lucifer promised. “You can.” And he stayed there with Sam until the poor boy cried himself to sleep.

 

 

Back in his own office, Lucifer hummed.

If Sam had his common sense with him, he’d realize that there was no way he could have murdered Mary, since he had only been a baby at the time of her death. But Zimbardo’s little experiment had gotten to him.

He wasn’t the only one, either. All around the makeshift prison, people were forgetting that it was all fantasy.

Lucifer remembered, though. But he didn’t want to spoil the fun by telling anyone. He was, in fact, running his own experiment…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be posting regularly again, YAY.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the slowest burn I've ever written.

Sam woke up to the feeling of fingers in his hair. He kept his eyes closed, not sure if he was supposed to be awake or not. But the other man already knew.

“Hello, Sam,” Lucifer said quietly. “You’ve been out for a while.”

“Did you stay here this whole time?” Sam asked, eyes still closed.

“No,” Lucifer said. “I came back maybe fifteen minutes ago.”

Sam opened his eyes. “What time is it?”

“Almost midnight,” Lucifer smiled. He looked tired. “You sleep well?”

Sam nodded. “Why are you here?”

“Can’t I visit my favorite prisoner without being hounded with questions?” Lucifer sounded almost offended, and it made Sam apologize. Lucifer laughed. “No, Sam, it’s alright,” he said. The fingers were back in Sam’s hair. “I have a question for you. A task, actually. Will you accept?”

Sam nodded. “If it’ll help me get out sooner,” he said quietly.

“It will,” Lucifer promised. “I need you to go to the isolation block and get information on Kevin Tran. It appears he won’t talk to my guards. Do whatever you need to in order to get this information. I don’t care what you do, I’ll look the other way.”

Sam thought for a moment, decided he had nothing to lose but the world to gain, and nodded his head again.

Lucifer led him to the isolation block, humming. Sam wondered why he was humming. He didn’t get to think about it for long, though. Lucifer nodded towards Kevin’s cell and said, “Go on.”

Sam took a deep breath and approached the cell. Kevin turned to him, a look of betrayal in his eyes. It hurt Sam, but he smiled anyway. “Hi.”

“What do you want?” Kevin asked.

“I came to talk to you,” Sam said.

“About what?” Kevin sighed.

Sam glanced at Lucifer, who nodded. “I came to… say sorry.”

Kevin wrinkled his nose. “Sorry?” he asked. “You think you can just apologize?”

“No,” Sam said quickly. “I also came to… explain myself.”

“Then explain.”

“Lucifer made me do it,” Sam blurted. “He said if I didn’t, he’d keep me here longer, and I… I can’t do that.”

Kevin pursed his lips. “I believe you,” he finally said. “But still. You could’ve given me a heads-up or something. Is Lucifer anywhere near now?”

Sam glanced at Lucifer. To Kevin, it probably looked like Sam was just keeping guard. “No,” Sam lied, facing his ex-cellmate. “Why?”

“Because I need to tell you something,” Kevin said. “There’s another rebellion staged.”

Sam swallowed. “A…another?”

Kevin nodded. “Tonight, actually. Some of the prisoners are going to distract the guards, while the others make a run for it.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Sam asked, throat dry.

“Because I want to know,” Kevin said simply. “I want to know if you’re really sorry. If the rebellion succeeds, I’ll know you’re on my side. But if it fails, I’ll know it’s because of you.”

Oh, shit. Oh, shit. “But it could fail for other reasons,” Sam said, almost hopefully.

Kevin shook his head. “No. It’s perfectly planned. Nothing can go wrong.”

“Oh,” Sam said. It was all he could think to say.

Lucifer came in just then. “Prisoner five-four-six-one-oh,” he barked at Sam. “What the hell are you doing in this area? Get back to your cell!”

Sam winced and mumbled a “Yes, sir” before standing up.

“Bye, Sam,” Kevin called, and Sam’s insides twisted.

Lucifer led Sam back to the cell. “Very well done,” he said, pleased.

Sam didn’t answer. He just started crying.

Lucifer looked perplexed as he sat beside Sam. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

“I don’t have anyone,” Sam choked out bitterly. “I’m screwing over everyone. I’m never getting out of here.”

Lucifer smiled slightly and rubbed Sam’s back. “You have me,” he pointed out. And he leaned in and kissed Sam.

For a moment, Sam didn’t move. But then the kiss started to numb his mind, and it was like a drug: it was bad and wrong and Sam knew it, but it helped the pain inside, so he kissed back.

“I just don’t want to feel it anymore,” Sam breathed, on the verge of tears again.

Lucifer kissed him again. “I can help with that.”

 

 

Lucifer woke up in the evening with Sam’s face buried in his shoulder. He smiled. He’d won. With a triumphant smirk, he detangled his limbs from Sam’s and moved to get up.

Sam whined and pulled him back, making Lucifer smile wider. “I guess I can stay a little longer,” he said softly, repositioning himself beside Sam. He stroked the man’s brown hair gently. “You’re mine,” he whispered. They stayed like that until Sam woke up. Lucifer smiled at him. “Hello.”

“Hi,” Sam yawned. “What time is it?”

“Almost dinner,” Lucifer replied. “I’m excited to put a stop to the rebellion.”

Sam frowned. “Oh yeah. The rebellion,” he said.

Lucifer nodded. “You’re amazing, Sam,” he said. “I want you to know that.”

“Thanks,” Sam said, and he offered a small smile.

Lucifer got up out of bed and dressed himself before motioning for Sam to do the same. “We should get to the cafeteria,” he said.

Sam hesitated. “I don’t want to be there,” he said softly.

Lucifer looked at him. “What?”

“I don’t want to be there,” Sam repeated. “When you squash the rebellion. I just… I feel guilty.”

“You shouldn’t feel guilty,” Lucifer frowned. “Whatever. You can stay here. I’ll bring you food, okay?”

Sam nodded. “Thanks.” He got dressed while he waited for Lucifer to return with his meal. He ate in silence, but he heard everything. He heard the screams coming from the inmates and the shouting that the guards did. He heard the silence that followed.

He heard Lucifer come back into the cell and press a kiss to Sam’s cheek, whispering, “You did well.”

And that night in his dreams, he heard his mother tell him that she was disappointed in him, and that she wished he’d never been born.

When he woke up in the morning, he heard a voice he had forgotten existed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go, yo!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking through with my story, everyone!

“Everyone up,” someone was yelling, but it wasn’t a guard. It was… shit, Sam couldn’t remember his name. It started with a Z.

Sam dragged himself up out of bed and out of his cell. Oh, that’s right. The man was Zimbardo. He ran the…

…experiment.

Oh, shit. It was all an experiment, wasn’t it? None of this was real. Memories came flooding back to Sam, making the dread in his stomach grow.

People were out in the halls, stripping the bars off the prison walls and revealing them to be Stanford’s basement. Holy shit. Sam’s mind reeled.

Kevin was out in the halls too, looking a bit dazed. He saw Sam and gave him a tight smile, opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again.

Lucifer was there too, looking confused as all hell.

Sam didn’t get a chance to talk to either of them before he was brought back home.

 

 

“Told you so,” was the first thing Dean said when Sam arrived home. “You said the experiment was two weeks. How bad was it that it got cut short after less than one?”

“It wasn’t bad,” Sam said halfheartedly. Dean didn’t buy it.

“Sure,” he said. “Did you see anyone you knew?”

Sam shook his head. “I don’t think so. But I met a couple people.”

“Yeah? Who?”

“Kevin Tran and Lucifer Something.”

Dean shrugged. “Never heard of them,” he said. “Are they nice?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah.”

“Cool,” Dean said. “You must be craving real people food by now, huh? How about I go get us a pizza?”

Sam smiled, glad his brother didn’t push things further. “Sure. Thanks, Dean.”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded in reply, heading out the door.

 

 

When Sam heard the doorbell ring, he thought it was Dean. But he opened it to find Kevin instead. “Hi, Sam,” Kevin said nervously.

“Hey,” Sam said. “What’s up? How’d you know where I lived?”

“I asked around,” Kevin said. “Sorry. I just really felt bad about the whole experiment. I was pissed at you for no reason.”

“It’s fine,” Sam said. “Honestly, I forgot it was an experiment. I thought…”

“No, I did too,” Kevin said quickly. “And I’m really sorry. I want to be friends.”

Sam grinned. “Yeah, sure,” he said. “We can pretend the experiment never happened.”

Kevin nodded. “Definitely,” he agreed. “I’d like that.”

They exchanged numbers, and Kevin went on his way.

 

 

Sam was certain it was Dean at the door this time. “It’s about time,” he said, yanking the door open. But it wasn’t Dean who stood there. It was Lucifer. Sam’s heart stopped.

“Hey, Sammy,” Lucifer said quietly.

“Luce,” Sam breathed.

Lucifer smiled. “I came to apologize. I was a little hard on you in the experiment, but… I was only doing what I thought would help Zimbardo’s studies.”

“I understand,” Sam managed to say. “Lucifer, I…”

“Wait, Sam. I’m not finished,” Lucifer stopped him. “I wanted to say that since the experiment’s over, I would like to ask you out officially. I really like you, Sam.”

“You manipulated me,” Sam protested.

“For the experiment,” Lucifer reminded him.

Sam hesitated. He did kind of like Lucifer. It might be good to give him a chance. “Okay,” he said at last. “Where do you want to go?”

“Are you free on Friday?” Lucifer asked, brightening. “I can take you to dinner and a movie. My treat.”

Sam nodded. “Sure,” he said. “I’d really like that.”

Lucifer grinned and left as Dean’s Impala pulled into the driveway.

“Who was that?” Dean asked, coming in with far more pizzas than necessary.

“Lucifer,” Sam grinned. “I have a date.”

“Good for you,” Dean grinned back. “I’m proud. You hungry?”

“Very,” Sam admitted.

 

 

Lucifer walked down the streets, hands in his pockets and a smile on his face.

Zimbardo’s experiment might be done, but his? His was only beginning...

**Author's Note:**

> How am I doing? Let me know!


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